


Younger Sons

by shiannan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiannan/pseuds/shiannan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras was a third son, and he didn't have to be ambitious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Younger Sons

Since his very childhood Loras had never had any ambitions.

Well, in his case it wasn’t a real disaster: there were three sons in the Tyrell family, and being the third one Loras had no chance to claim Highgarden. But all his relatives told him the same thing: it was aiming that mattered. So Loras was aimed. He spent his days in their maester's and Master-at-Arms’ company improving his skills as gaining knowledge. He was mad about reading trying to learn as much as he could. He did his best to be nice with servants and even would sometimes stop to have a small talk with them to show his good temper. But it didn’t help, not really.

«What are your achievements, son?» Mace asked, and Loras had nothing to say. He wasn’t an outstanding fighter like Garlan. Speaking of wisdom… No one could catch up with Willas. And Margaery, with her inborn grace, was the charm of the family. Her beautiful smiles were always sincere while Loras had to force himself to be sweet.

It struck him once in a while that their father had one more child that it he should have had.

«The thing is,» his Lord-Father said once, «You don't try to find your place».

Loras just shrugged his shoulders. All the places had already been taken.

«Let him be!» his grandmother said in annoyance. «The boy isn’t a squire yet, but you already demand something from him. At least have some patience until his wedding.»

Loras tried to give it a thought, but he didn’t feel like becoming neither a squire nor a husband.

His father may have been right about him in the end.

Years flew by, not that many of them, but Loras felt time flow, slip through his fingers. The Master-at-Arms was pleased with his student and swore that one day Loras was going to become a great tournament fighter. Garlan was overjoyed and patted his back, Willas smiled, Margaery clapped her hands and rushed to Loras to give him a hug. Loras himself just shrugged his shoulders, again. He felt no excitement over tournament.

The day that was to become the most important in his life Loras was training in the yard attacking a dummy. He hadn’t done it for a long time, but the Master-at-Arms was away, his brothers were busy, and Loras was training with a spear for he wasn’t used to sitting idly having free time on his hands.

«What a blow!» someone said from behind and Loras turned around. The voice belonged to a tall man wearing black and golden.

«My gratitude. You are too kind,» Loras answered and gave the man a wide smile. That was what Margaery always did when she was introduced to strangers. «I haven’t been aware of the fact that His Majesty’s kin is paying us a visit. Let me introduce myself. The name is Loras Tyrell.»

«How do you know I’m the King’s kin?» the man asked. He was smiling back, and Loras suddenly felt brave.

«The colours.»

«Oh, yeah,» the man chuckled. «Must have been easy to guess. Can you guess my name too?»

He didn’t need time to think.

«Your hair is black, you’ve got blue eyes and you are wearing Baratheon colours. And you are smiling, so you can’t be Stannis Baratheon.»  
«A good point. So, who am I?»

«You must be the Lord of Storm’s End, Renly Baratheon.»

«That’s the boy! Your maester’s work can’t be underestimated.»

«I try to live up to his expectations.»

Lord Renly was watching him with interest.

«I have a feeling you will find your way one day.»

He left, and Loras kept looking at his back.

***  
The Tyrells weren’t used to choosing their children’s fate without consulting them, but when Loras was told that Rebly Baratheon want  
ed him for a squire he didn’t hesitate. His father was pleased,a bond with a royal family, even so fathom, flattered him. Their grandmother wasn’t happy about it and spent hours preaching that Highgarden roses never grew well by the cold sea, but didn’t question her grandson’s choiceAll in all, he was just a third son and could do anything he wished. Becoming a maester, joining the Watch… All options were acceptable, so his decision to become the King’s brother’s squire was not the worst one imaginable.

Renly himself was not that bad of a swordsman, but to Loras’s surprise, the first combat showed that they were equal. And with a spear Loras was way above his Lord, so very soon the Storm’s End Master-at-Arms took the charge of him.

Each day spent in the castle near the sea made Loras fight better and better, and the better he fought the less space was left in his heart for anything but Lord Baratheon.

«Your fencing skill is amazing, Loras.» said Renly once touching his squire’s wrist. He would often do something like that - brushing his hair with his fingers, rubbing his shoulders passing by, and every time it happened Loras felt butterflies move in his stomach. He was too scared to touch Renly back, but he nearly howled with loneliness when Renly would leave the castle. 

«It seems it’s high time you wore spurs. You’ve come of age and know everything you need.» he put his hand on Loras’s back in his usual friendly manner.

«And then? Shall I come back to Highgarden?»

«It’s not my call, you know,» Renly lifted his hands in dismay. «There’s a great future ahead of you. With these skills of yours you could jointhe Kingsguard at the very least. But you’ll have to forget about having a family of your own… No, it’s not what you need.»

«I’ve never thought about Kingsguard» Loras admitted and instinctively laid his head on Renly’s shoulder. He almost immediately tried to flinch back, but Renly patted the top of his head.

«It may sound silly, but I've always enjoyed watching the King guards. When I was a child we used to come to King’s Landing and they were always lined up next to the throne. Sir Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, Sir Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Sir Barristan Selmy… There was always something magical about them, something these morons don’t possess nowadays… Except Lannister and Oakheart, maybe, and, of course, Sir Barristan…»

There was something dreamlike in Renly’s voice, and Loras was listening to him as if he had been bewitched.  
«So, Sir Loras, when are we going to arrange the solemn ceremony?»

Loras bit his lip.

«I can’t say, my lord. I don’t want any ceremonies. I wish I could stay here, with you.»

«Everyone has their destiny, my dear,» Renly gave him a cheerful smile. «But the thing is I’m not going to stay here myself. In a week I am leving for King's Landing. My brother has generously made me the master of laws.»

«Thank the Seven it’s not the master of coin,» Loras spilt. 

«Do you want to say I would waste everything? It’s a shame but you’re right, I would.»

Loras couldn’t help giggling.

«I just don’t want to part with you. If I don’t become a knight, will I be able to go to King’s Landing with you?»

Renly looked at him attentively.

«You'll be able to go with me even being a knight. I’ll call you «Sir Loras» and bet on you at each tournament.»

And that seemed to be the happiest moment in Loras’s whole life. Not able to cope with his feeling he just embraced his lord.

And then Renly kissed him.

Here was something about it - something so wrong and so hot at the same time, but Loras just couldn’t step back: for him it meant betraying Renly, letting him down after his trust shown so clearly, so he just leant forward digging his fingers into black hair, squeezing up against the strong body and feeling Renly getting hard despite all the unnecessary layers of clothes stuck between them. If all the maidens who had ever tried to stay in Highgarden’s heir’s bedroom wanted to feel the same, then Loras started to understand them.

«Seventh Hell!» Renly moaned huskily. «What are you doing to me?»

«Me?»

«You.» His hands were touching Loras’s back and moving lower, closer to the thighs, but it didn’t feel wrong. «I’ve been pulling myself together for so long, and now you’re doing it yourself…»

At that point all self-control Loras ever had just went to hell, and he just let his hands sneak into Renly’s pants.

And Renly shuddered.

«Stop now,» he said, «or I’ll never be able to let you go.»

«Don’t let me go.»

***  
Everythig seemed strange and foreign in King’s Landing - their father had never taken his youngest son to the capital with him. In Loras’s opinion, Red Keep wasn’t half as stunning as Highgarden, and it couldn’t be compared with Storm’s End that was full of dark and solemn beauty. But Renly was here, his Renly, always laughing, and his laugh could turn the dirty, noisy town into the best place in the whole world. Sometimes Loras felt like he had got into one of Margaery’s children books where all the characters lived happily ever after. In the daytime he helped Renly and listened to his endless stories about court and crimes which got unexpectedly captivating and even hilarious being told by the Master at law, and at night… Even the thought of their nights made Loras blush. At night the storm lord suddenly became so gentle and at the same time so vulnerable , and Loras felt important.Needed, as never before. He loved Renly’s arms, his passionate kisses, he could barely breathe looking at the gleam of oil on the bare skin. So helpless, so his… In the daytime Renly was a mountain protecting him from anything, but at night Loras was the one in charge of their small world.

«The tournament’s tomorrow,» Renly said leaving a kiss on Loras’s neck. «You ready?»

Loras shook his head.

«I don’t know, I don't seem to be a tournament type. I push someone with my spear, someone else pushes me… What’s the point then?»

Renly gently laid his hand on Loras's crotch, and the latter moaned. 

«The point? It’s to be the first, isn’t it?  
«I’ve never been the first.» Loras moved forward trying to make the touch more intense. «Mmm, harder!»

He didn’t have to ask twice.

«So, well…» Loras went on, «I’m a third son. I needn’t be the first.»

Renly froze, and Loras made a protesting sound.

«What’s wrong?»

«I’m a third son, too.» Renly answered. : But I’m the lord of Storm’s End. All of us can have what we want.»

After a couple of thrusts Loras came, moaning huskily. Renly spooned him, kissing the back of his neck.

«You are the third, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take what’s yours by right.»

«I've already taken what’s mine,» Loras smiled and moved to reach the oil. «And I am ready to take it again and again as soon as you are willing.»

Renly leant back and spread his legs silently inviting to proceed. Loras warmed the oil in his hands and softly touched the rim.

«I want you to win the tournament for me, Loras.»

«Is that what you want?»

«Almost as much as I want you in me,» Renly whispered. «If you win tomorrow, I’ll decorate our bed with flowers and let you do everything to me. Everything you want. «

His member was aching with desire, and Loras bit his lip.

«Well,» he said. «I’ll do it for you.»

***  
Sir Loras Tyrell, the knight of the King’s Guard also known as the Kinght of Flowers, the winner of many tournaments and the queen’s brother, was standing at the door of the throne room. After Joffrey’s death the title which had been Renly’s by right passed on to little Tommen, and the guards followed him everywhere, but only Loras was admired that much. I wasn’t surprising - third sons are not expected to get everything one can dream about.

Just out of old habit he tried to spot Renly in the crowd although he knew there was no point in it.

His sun didn’t shine anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It's unbeta'd, and, what's more, my English leaves much to be desired, so If you spot any mistakes, please, let me know!


End file.
